A Northern Town
by Alekto
Summary: *Chapter 2 up* A Southern Trader hires a band of mercenary adventurers as bodyguards for his journey to the remote Dwarf Kingdom of K'Dhul. In doing so, he gets involved in much more than he bargained for.
1. Not quite what I had in mind

A Northern Town  
  
By Alekto.  
  
  
  
Summary: A Southern trader hires a group of mercenary adventurers as bodyguards for his trip to the remote Dwarf Kingdom of K'Dhul. He ends up getting involved in far more than he ever bargained for.  
  
Author's note: Like many other Dungeons and Dragons fics, this one is based on the events as they happened during the game. For names and characterisations etc., I can only thank/blame (delete as appropriate) the other players - Adam, Angharad, Jason, Mike and Richard. The rest of the thanks has to be reserved for Aaron, the DM, who's twisted, (G) warped mind created the world we play in.  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
  
  
Chapter 1 - Not quite what I had in mind.  
  
I had expected the wild country of the North to be less civilised than my own land, and in that at least I was not disappointed. On the maps I had studied before setting out, Port Wylde had seemed such a strange, even exotic place. The reality was cold, wet, drab and worst of all - filthy. The only advice I had been given was to meet with Vaarne, a professional intermediary and arranger of whatever needed to be arranged.  
  
Vaarne held court in one of the many timber halls of the town. He was tall, blonde and bearded, his approaching middle age having done little to diminish a powerful physique. The others in the hall were of a type: hard drinking, hard brawling Northern tribesmen, apparently conforming to every stereotype that would be familiar to a Southerner. My appearance in so rowdy a gathering caused no small amount of hilarity. The djellaba, which I refused to exchange for local garb, did admittedly resemble to dresses worn by the women of the tribes. I had no choice but to let them laugh. I was no warrior, and my other talents I would rather not have generally known unless I could help it.  
  
"Welcome, Alef!" Vaarne called out. "Sit down and have a drink."  
  
I obliged and sipped the rough mead that was placed in front of me. It was foul tasting but I had no doubt that it was safer to drink than the water. The informality made me uncomfortable. I had expected this to be a business meeting, the payment to Vaarne of a brokerage fee in return for an introduction to the mercenaries that he had been able to find to escort me through the forests of Gormund to K'Dhul. Before landing in Port Wylde, I had fondly hoped to be able to procure passage north in a caravan, operated by one of the local merchant houses, and guarded by armoured professionals.  
  
  
  
Vaarne had swiftly disabused me of that plan in our first meeting. Since I had left Akkad months earlier, the situation in the North had deteriorated. As always, the Gormundian tribes were warring amongst themselves, but now it had gone far beyond the mutual raiding that had long characterised their tactics. Word had reached us that the Ardenian Empire had started pushing troops through the isthmus of Akar that lay to the west of Port Wylde, encroaching into Gormund. More worryingly, rumours had started circulating that the Blood Order was on the move. The lands they laid claim to covered the vast taiga that stretched to the north and east, beyond the mountain range that was the Dwarf Kingdom of K'Dhul.  
  
"I have managed to find you some people to act as bodyguards. They are willing to go into Gormund with you," Vaarne eventually announced. I thought I could hear something in his voice. Resignation? I was unsure.  
  
"Shall I meet them here?" I asked. I had no familiarity with the protocol of such situations.  
  
He nodded ponderously, whether from weariness or the drink, I could not tell. "I'll send word to them. Wait here - when they arrive I'll introduce you."  
  
"Do they have a good reputation in these matters?" I said.  
  
"I have no idea," he said frankly. "Before yesterday I'd never met them, and nobody I know has even heard of them, but they're the only ones I could find willing to go north at the moment." He waited for a protest from me. When none was forthcoming, he left to find them. I found myself suddenly wishing that I could stay here, protected from whatever was out there by the wooden palisades of the town, but I had a contract with the Dwarves that I would not renege on if I could help it - it was worth too much to me.  
  
About an hour or so later, he returned. I think on some level I was disappointed that he had chosen to bring his wife to the conclusion of our dealings, but as I decided to say nothing. Vaarne sat down as did his wife. Following them was a group that looked nearly as outlandish in the hall as I did. Leading them was a tall man, wearing a style of armour that I had not seen outside the Empire. I recognised his type, though. Gentleman soldier, what we of Akkad referred to as an Askar. His companions were unusual: Next to the Askar was a woman, robed in purple and carrying a staff. Without doubt, a wizard of some description. She was taller than he, with long dark blonde hair and vivid green eyes, beautiful certainly, but there was something disconcertingly predatory about her. At her side stood a slightly built man, plainly clad also carrying a staff - probably another wizard. He was older than the woman, his hair showing the beginnings of grey at the temples, but he seemed far more open and approachable.  
  
Behind them were two others, whose colouring marked them clearly as outsiders. The taller of them was a. woman. female, anyway. Her skin was dark, almost black, and the heaviness of her features marked at least some of her ancestry as something other than human. Her head was nearly entirely shaved, but what little hair remained had been dyed a blazing red. The final member of the group was plain enough in appearance to have passed without notice anywhere in the South. His clothing was as non- descript as he, and only his dusky skin marked him apart. I returned my attention to Vaarne.  
  
"These are the people I told you of," he stated, then gestured at the woman sat at his side, "and this is Koronin, their leader." I could not help but do a double-take: their leader? Women war leaders were rare in Akkad, tall, extraordinary, wonderful creatures, the stuff of legend. I had never encountered anyone who looked less like a legend than this rather ordinary looking woman of no more than average height whose mousy brown hair bore streaks of grey. Looking more closely at her in the dim light of the hall, I noticed a faded uneven scar that cut a pale diagonal slash across the bridge of her nose.  
  
The woman, Koronin, ignored my scrutiny and made the introductions. I struggled to remember the names of those I might end up relying on for my life. The Askar had one of the interminable names such as are carried by minor nobility, attempting to equate importance with long lines of ancestors: Thoran Barrington Arkelson. The wizards were Sarhar, the woman in purple; and Eric. The dark skinned woman was named Mheng and the final member of the group was Prakesh.  
  
They gazed at me with disinterest as Vaarne and Koronin discussed the fee. The paltry figure I had earlier suggested for the task to Vaarne was soon upped to a higher but still affordable sum. I returned their gazes as steadily as I could, less than reassured by the company of people willing to risk their lives for a few hundred coins.  
  
"Will you be ready to leave tomorrow?" Koronin's words dragged me from my reverie.  
  
"Hmh? Oh, yes, of course," I replied, somewhat nonplussed by her directness, so unlike the women of Akkad. Thankfully.  
  
"Be at the North Gate at dawn with everything you'll need, including supplies," she began. "It's a two week journey to Duth, and from there another week to K'Dhul. There are no inns or caravanserais on the way, so if you don't have horses and appropriate outdoors gear, buy some. I'm sure Vaarne will be able to make sure you're prepared."  
  
I glanced at Vaarne who simply nodded. It went without saying that he would get a kickback from whoever he sent me to for the things I needed. I looked back at Koronin and the others, with - I have to confess - something less than complete confidence. If we were attacked by any of the barbarian raiders, I did not rate their. our chances.  
  
The deal was done, though. All I could hope for was an uneventful trip.  
  
TBC. 


	2. I never thought I would owe my life to m...

A Northern Town  
  
By Alekto  
  
  
  
Chapter 2 - I never thought I would owe my life to mud.  
  
We left Port Wylde the next morning, huddled in travelling cloaks against the driving rain. Everything around was grey and murky and cold. In the South, rain was a blessing: cool relief against the blistering heat, washing the cities clean of dust and sand. Here, all the rain accomplished was to turn the trail into an oozing morass, churned by the horses' hooves.  
  
Between us we had seven horses and four mules. I considered myself a fair judge of horseflesh, and I had to acknowledge that these Northern horses were nowhere near as poor as I had once believed. Koronin and Thoran rode warhorses, not the huge, ponderous beasts I had imagined, but nonetheless solidly built, stocky creatures, neither of them taller than 16hh. Thoran rode, as I had expected, with the grace of a true cavalryman, as if the horse was as much a part of him as was his sword arm. Of the rest of us, Prakesh and Mheng spent more time afoot than on horseback, flanking us on each side. Koronin was at the front of the group while Thoran brought up the rear. The two wizards and I travelled in the middle of this box along with the mules.  
  
The days passed and soon lapsed into a familiar routine. The salt smell of the sea was quickly left behind as we headed inland, following the course of the Wolf river on whose estuary Port Wylde was sited. I had been told that the journey would take some two weeks, the first going through the lightly wooded coastal plain where there were occasional farms and homesteads, before the trees thickened and we would be into the great forests that covered Gormund. In the evenings as we set up camp, Koronin and Thoran would spar, as warriors do. Both were matched in skill, but Thoran had the edge in strength. Mheng and Prakesh would occasionally join in, more often empty handed than with any weapon. Prakesh certainly seemed to disdain to carry a weapon. Their fighting styles were generally dissimilar, but both were reliant on speed and accuracy.  
  
We met few other travellers on the trail. Those we did encounter were mostly refugees from the settlements, fleeing to the sanctuary offered by the walls of Port Wylde. The expressions of despair on their faces did not engender confidence.  
  
****  
  
Six days had passed uneventfully and I had begun to hope that the dangers warned of back in the City were no more than hysteria and a few scattered raids. Intellectually I knew that the next week when we were into the thick forest would be most likely when any danger would strike. I was musing on this when it came to my attention that something was wrong. I looked left and right, expecting to see the reassuring sight of Prakesh and Mheng, but saw no-one. From ahead I could hear the faint 'clunk-clunk- clunk' of the cranequin with which Koronin was pulling back the cable on her powerful crossbow. Behind me I heard another 'click' and glanced round to see Thoran had taken up his own, lighter, crossbow and was drawing back the wire by hand.  
  
"Get down!" murmurered Eric to me, as both he and Sarhar dismounted. I hurriedly obliged.  
  
"Anything?" Koronin called back without turning her head. Her horse was stood still as she scrutinised the trail ahead of us, searching for something, anything. I glanced over at Eric, wondering if it was he who should have been answering Koronin's interrogatory. A surprising change had come over him. Gone was the amiable, slightly clumsy figure whom I had chatted to on the trail. A frown of concentration was on his face and he looked for the first time like someone I did not want to upset. Sarhar too was altered. A thin wand which had been tucked in her belt was held lightly in her hand as her eyes flickered from tree to tree, watching for any threat. Around both of them there seemed to blaze an almost tangible aura of Power.  
  
"There's something on the trail in front of us - it's too diffuse to be any more specific," said Eric.  
  
"Invisibility magic?" speculated Sarhar. Eric did not answer.  
  
From ahead I could hear a snort of sardonic amusement from Koronin, then her voice: low, acerbic, mocking. "You may be invisible, my friend, but your footsteps aren't."  
  
I looked down, for the first time grateful for the endless sea of mud that was the trail. Koronin's crossbow was levelled and aimed at a seemingly arbitrary point ahead of us. In the tree line to left and right I thought I could make out a pair of dark shapes drifting noiselessly from shadow to shadow. I moved to try to get a better view of what was going on. I had taken barely two steps when I felt something tug briefly at the loose sleeve of my djellaba. Instinctively I looked to see what it had been and felt a sudden wetness running down my arm. Blood. Mine. I froze, not knowing what to do. Being attacked far so far out of my sphere of experience. I was probably standing there, gaping, when a hand dragged me unceremoniously behind the cover offered by the horses.  
  
"What the hell do you think you were doing, you bloody fool? Trying to get yourself killed?" Eric's voice held a censure that was unmistakable. I did not think he had been motivated by any real concern for my well-being, rather that it was his job to protect me.  
  
From ahead I heard Koronin call out again: "Show yourself! This doesn't have to end in your death. We know close enough where you are, and there's no way you can dodge a fireball."  
  
There were tense moments of silence as nothing stirred save the occasional swish of a horse's tail. Then, in front of us a human figure shimmered into existence. He was dressed much as I was, but his djellaba was plain and dark, and on his face.. "Merciful Gods!" I muttered, as I recognised the facial tattoos of a sect I had only read about, a sect I had been warned about, a sect who wanted me dead. "He's an assassin!" I exclaimed, unable to keep the fear from my voice. "Kill him! You cannot allow him to live, or He'll find out where I am and send more of his servants to kill me. Please, hurry, kill him now, I beg of you."  
  
The next sound I heard was the dull 'thunk' of a crossbow bolt being fired, and the would-be assassin twisted and crumpled to the ground. What happened next might have been rehearsed a dozen times and not looked so automatic. Koronin and Thoran swung their horses round on guard for any more attacks. Prakesh and Mheng never broke cover, waiting to see if their involvement would be needed while Eric and Sarhar moved forward to examine the corpse and its clothing with an admirable thoroughness. The end result was a small haul of throwing knives, a long bladed curved dagger, some sundry coins and a ring. Eric declared the ring to have magical properties, put it on, and faded from view. Seconds later, he reappeared, caught in the act of removing the ring. "Useful," was his only comment.  
  
Once the examination was complete, they regrouped. Koronin studied the tattoos on the face of the corpse and looked at me with deceptive mildness. "Something you want to tell us about, Alef?" she asked. "We can protect you better if we have some idea about who might want you dead."  
  
"He's a member of a cult of assassins with whom we have.. ideological differences. I was warned that there was a chance I would be targeted due to my travelling to K'Dhul." I hoped she would miss the hesitation, but the appraising look she gave me suggested she had not. I appreciated what she had done on nothing more tangible than my word. A part of me wished I could tell her more, but there were still some secrets that I would not reveal if I did not have to.  
  
"I have heard it said often by those in power, that what you don't know can't hurt you. I long ago discovered that it's what people don't know that most often ends up getting them killed," said Koronin. There was no recrimination in her voice, just a warning and I accepted it as such.  
  
****  
  
Two days later and we were in forest so dense I wondered that anything could move through it. The wide trail we had set out on from Port Wylde had narrowed to a rutted track, barely wide enough for a single cart. Here and there the forest thinned out for a few dozen yards before closing in again, seemingly thicker than before. The sky was a leaden grey, heavy clouds sometimes seeming low enough to cover the tops of the tall pines and firs that stretched high above. There were still occasional broad-leafed trees here and there but ever fewer as we headed northward. Even at midday, the forest floor was swathed in a perpetual twilight that darkened quickly into impenetrable blackness as night fell. To me the forest was heavy, oppressive, threatening.  
  
The attack when it came was sudden enough that I think even my guides and protectors were for a moment caught unawares. We were in one of the more open parts of the forest when it happened. A hail of arrows came at us from both sides. I heard the shrill screams of wounded horses as I gracelessly left my saddle to seek what shelter I could on the ground.  
  
Then I heard Koronin's voice shouting orders as she struggled to control her plunging mount: "Eric! Sarhar! Take them out - left and right!" I glanced in the wizards' direction, and as before could see the corona of power around each as they summoned up Power. Moments later the dimness of the track was gone as the forest to both sides exploded in flames. I could hear screams of pain before they transformed into holws of rage. I caught a brief glimpse of an alarmed expression cross Eric's face as he put on his newly acquired ring and vanished.  
  
For her part, Sarhar pulled out the wand she carried, and pointed it at the dimly seen figures charging at us through the clearing the fire had suddenly created. She muttered something I could not make out and bolt of blinding white energy flared from the wand, striking her attacker. It staggered them but they recovered themselves and continued towards us. I looked at her for instructions, inspiration, anything that might offer us an escape. The expression on her face was more one of petty annoyance rather than the fear I would have expected. She waited until our attackers were nearly upon us, then gestured haughtily. The clearing once again exploded into flame, but this time our would-be attackers had been stopped for good.  
  
The thunder of hooves and a wordless battlecry gave me ample warning of Thoran's approach. I turned and got my first real glimpse of our attackers. They looked like the barbarian tribesmen I had seen back in Port Wylde, tall, powerfully built, lightly armoured but wielding immense axes and swords as if they were nothing weightier than daggers or hatchets. The shortest of them could not have been less than six feet tall. Thoran had charged a trio who had been about to attack Sarhar and I from behind. His horse crashed into one, knocking him to the ground. The others struck indiscriminately, unworried whether they hit horse or man. At Thoran's urging, the horse spun on its haunches as he leaned over and almost negligently swung down at one of the barbarians with his flail. The effect was astounding - the man dropped without a sound, felled by a singe blow. He struck again, keeping the horse moving. The warhorse for its part reared and lashed out with steel shod hooves. Another barbarian fell.  
  
At the head of the party I could see Koronin fighting on foot having, for whatever reason, eschewed fighting from horseback. She fought with an unhurried economy of movement, her slight form was dwarfed by the bulk of her two attackers. I thought for sure that she would fall unless one of the others came to her assistance. I looked for Prakesh and Mheng but could not see them. The dearth of barbarian reinforcements from the forest offered a clue as to their employment in the fight. I returned my gaze to Koronin, thinking to offer what little assistance I could. As I watched, I saw one of her opponents reel away, blood pouring from his side. The other was soon dropped as she drove her blade into his torso.  
  
I looked at her face, spattered by her opponents' blood and saw nothing there: no hint of anger or remorse or even satisfaction, just a controlled stillness. She looked at me, her eyes met mine, and in that moment she was more terrifying than all the barbarians who had attacked us. I could not help but look away first, my gaze passed to the others and a part of me feared what I would see. Only in Thoran's face could I make out the faint glimmer of what might have been regret. I could not help but wonder what had happened to these people that seemed to have scourged from them any human feeling.  
  
The aftermath of the failed ambush was all around: littered weapons and littered corpses. Mheng and Prakesh reappeared from the forest, each with bloodied hands that told of their part in the fight. Thoran dismounted and went to check the horses for injuries. I could see Eric again, the ring no longer on his finger. It amazed me when I thought about it how little we had suffered from the ambush. Koronin and Thoran bore only minor wounds as did three of the horses. My bodyguards were turning out to be far more efficient than I had imagined. It made me think I might have a chance of reaching K'Dhul alive.  
  
Then the ground started shaking.  
  
  
  
TBC 


End file.
